Quicksilver: a Blacklist fic
by Dr Alice
Summary: A gifted computer programmer with a taste for fraud has been targeted by the FBI. Raymond Reddington is consulted on the case, which will take the team to Belarus. I'll update this summary as things develop.


_This is my first Blacklist fic. I hope you enjoy it._

Agent Don Ressler was once again upset about something: Liz could see it in his posture, the scowl on his face. _At least he's easy to read,_ she thought, eyeing him from her workstation. Subconsciously she didn't let the thought go any further, wanting to avoid any comparison to her marriage. Her home was no longer a place of comfort; she couldn't trust her husband enough to have an honest conversation with him. There was something reassuring in knowing that there would be no surprises from Ressler, unlike Tom – not to mention Reddington.

"Keen. The boss wants to see you." Ressler indicated Harold Cooper, who was standing in the doorway scanning the workroom.

"Right." Liz logged out of her computer and headed across the room, joined by Ressler. Cooper gestured them into his office, shutting the door behind them, and got straight to the point.

"Our statistics on Internet fraud and identity theft show a rapid increase this year. Analysis indicates that many of these cases share a pattern, indicating a single individual or group may be responsible for them. Now, as you know, the FBI has a separate department that specializes in Internet fraud. However, I made a special request and we will be investigating this increase, trying to locate the person or persons responsible."

Ressler perked up immediately. "Sir, I can organize a task force and put together a protocol for you -"

"I don't want to start with that, Agent Ressler. At least, not yet. The reason I requested authority to investigate is because of Agent Keen's association with Reddington. I'd like to find out what he knows, if anything, about this fraud pattern and who might be responsible."

"Reddington again." Liz noted that her partner's enthusiasm had diminished considerably. "So we're just going to check in with him every time we open a new case?"

"It doesn't hurt to ask." Cooper shrugged. "He's acting as our consultant, so why not use him. He's been helpful in quite a few cases so far, and there's no reason to think he wouldn't know about someone active in the field of Internet fraud. And his results speak for themselves. It isn't just the Blacklist, it's the fallout. Like stirring an anthill. The people we're after depend on the people on his list. As they get taken out, the people we've been following start to panic. They make mistakes. And when they do…" Cooper let the sentence trail off with a gesture.

Liz and Ressler both knew he was right. The past few months had been some of the most successful in the FBI's recent history – not just for their team, but others as well. Arrest rates had increased to the point that approving editorials about the FBI were now appearing in papers around the country (the _Wall Street Journal_ had run a piece titled "Finally, a Government Success Story"). _If they only knew,_ Liz thought to herself.

"Yes, sir." Donald Ressler eyed his partner. "Keen, I guess this means you'll be meeting with Reddington. Pick his brain, see what he knows."

"I'll get in touch with him as soon as I can. Sir, that pattern you spoke of… can we get the details?" Liz was careful to say "we" instead of "I," not wanting to offend Ressler further. "The more information Reddington gets, the more likely he is to be able to name someone."

* * *

"Delightful to see you again, Lizzy," Reddington drawled. "No trouble with the back entrance?"

"None at all." As a precaution Reddington had set up an alternative entrance to his hideaway, accessible though an alley behind the building. ("We don't want the neighbors talking about these little rendezvous, do we? And an FBI agent visiting on a regular basis is bound to attract talk.") He had given Liz the key to the back door with a sly smile on his face and a quip that to return the favor, she could consider giving him a copy of her house key - an offer she had instantly declined.

"Good. Please, take a seat. Did you come to discuss literature with me today, or is that too much to hope for?" Reddington gestured to the books lining the walls.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for that. I am curious about your writer friend, though. Was he like the author of _A Confederacy of Dunces_? The one who killed himself when he couldn't get published?"

"John Kennedy Toole? Oh, my friend was a much better writer, in my opinion. I'll loan you one of his works. Perhaps we can discuss it the next time I see you."

"I'd like that. I haven't read anything for pleasure in quite a long time." Liz found herself relaxing back into the couch cushions. The library seemed a place outside of time; nothing ever seemed urgent when she met with Reddington here.

"Nothing but briefings and reports, I suppose. How pedestrian." Reddington winced at the thought. "But if you're here on business, tell me how I can help you."

Keen quickly outlined the details of the credit card and investment fraud schemes Cooper had discussed. "They set up glamorous looking websites, most of which give U.S. addresses but which we've traced back to servers in Belarus. They either offer astoundingly good rates of return on bonds and other financial instruments or offer to sell 'junk silver' and other precious metals for low prices. They collect the money and the websites shut down without delivering the goods, only to reopen as similar sites a short time later. None of the sites seems to have stayed active longer than six weeks or so." As she spoke, she opened her laptop to demonstrate screenshots of the websites. "The phrasing seems similar in all of them. The writing is completely professional. Does any of this ring a bell?" She sat back and watched as Reddington clicked through the screenshots.

"Belarus," Reddington mused absently. "A remarkable place. They took a nasty hit from Chernobyl, you know." He finished scanning the file and turned to her. "Yes, Lizzy, this does convey something to me. There's a fellow who combines a remarkable gift for computer programming with a taste for white-collar crime. He hires himself out to various criminal organizations, anybody who wants a piece of the Internet fraud pie and can afford to get him as a consultant. This information you've given me has his fingerprints all over it. Unfortunately, if you've traced the servers to Belarus it pretty much means that's where he is. It's plain to see that whoever has hired him is keeping him busy."

"Does he have a name?"

"They call him 'Quicksilver,' partly because of his interest in precious metals and partly because he's slipped through the fingers of law enforcement time and time again. Nobody's ever been able to prove that he is directly involved in these fraudulent schemes. Some of the gangs have been caught. But he? The man who's truly behind all this fraud? No, he's never been held responsible." A speculative look appeared on Reddington's face. "You know, I have some business to attend to in Belarus myself. What do you say, Lizzy? Are you up for a trip to Minsk?"


End file.
